They Went Left

Memory and Trauma continues to function as a pivotal theme in these chapters. There is continual tension in Zofia’s mind between an effort to remember versus an effort to repress memories that are too painful to recall. In some cases, Zofia’s mind manufactures untrue memories to protect her from recalling the truth. This means that Zofia struggles to distinguish between what is real and what is imagined: “Sometimes timelines get mixed up in my head. Or I’ll think I remember something that didn’t happen, or I’ll forget something that did” (140). When Josef asks Zofia when she last saw Abek, she explains that she doesn’t know: “I keep seeing new goodbyes. I keep inventing them. There’s a block. There’s a big wall where that memory should be” (149). This “block,” which Zofia is partly complicit in creating, illustrates her brain trying to protect her from memories of her family’s deaths. In the orphanage, when Zofia is asked to care for the boy who has spilled his soup, an immense stress reaction is triggered: “I freeze. My hand won’t move, and my legs won’t, either. They’re shaking. My underarms flood with sweat” (161). Her stress is characterized by her frozen body, her sweat, and her shaking limbs. Zofia is triggered in this instance because she was unable to take care of Abek; she partly remembers this and is overwhelmed and confused by this half-knowledge. Zofia’s reluctance to remember alludes to the reveal at the end of the novel when Zofia finally remembers Abek’s death in the cattle car on the way to Birkenau.

Despite her mind’s best efforts to protect her, Zofia sometimes recalls moments that she knows to be true. These moments are terrifying and overwhelming, such as when Zofia is overwhelmed by the gloves from the donation boxes, which remind her of her mother: “My mother was wearing these gloves when we went to the soccer stadium” (136). Zofia realizes that, unlike some of her memories, which are imagined, the memory is real, which scares her: “I know this happened. I know this is a true memory. What happened next? I push a little further. My hands start to shake. My head is pulsing. The monster at the door is stirring; I don’t want to push anymore” (136). This anecdote continues to reveal how Zofia is somewhat complicit in her memory loss, in that her mind is trying to protect her from the retraumatizing experience of remembering her journey to Birkenau and her family members’ deaths. The trauma of this memory is characterized by her shaking hands, her pulsing head, and her escalating sense of dread. As in the case of Abek, Zofia is unable to confront the trauma of her mother’s death and so continues to avoid this memory.

Breine also alludes to the scattered minds and memories of survivors in her quiet explanation to Zofia that “the war ended, and some of us are here, but not all there” (100). Zofia feels self-conscious in this moment, as she believes herself to be one of the many survivors who are not “all there.”

Zofia also witnesses the trauma of the children at the orphanage, who spent years on the brink of starvation. They struggle to accept their new reality where food will always be plentiful, as is illustrated by the boy who secretly pockets bread at dinner and hides it in his mattress: “It’s been sliced open, and inside, what at first look like rocks are actually lumps of bread. ‘He’s afraid there won’t be more’” (171). Through the fear of the children, Hesse continues to remind readers that the trauma of the concentration camps didn’t end with liberation but continues to have ramifications on victims, their families, and their ancestors.

The Power of Love in Bringing Happiness and Redemption is introduced in this section, specifically in Breine’s decision to marry Chaim despite the fact that they have only known each other for five weeks. When Zofia is taken aback by the rapidity of the arrangement, Breine explains: “I am choosing to love the person in front of me” (122). The death of her last fiancé in the war teaches Breine that life is unpredictable and that love should be prioritized and acted upon. She is determined: “I won’t let another wedding pass me by” (122). Breine is inspiring in her pursuit of happiness; she chooses to let horrific trauma and loss teach her to grasp love and happiness rather than wallowing in devastation about the death of her first fiancé. Love is cast as redemptive and uplifting in Breine and Chaim’s engagement, which brings these characters an exciting and joyful future.

Josef’s true identity as a Nazi soldier during the war continues to be alluded to but remains unrevealed. In the same conversation where Zofia learns that the refugee camp isn’t only for Jewish people, she sneaks glances at Josef, who sits alone. Josef is intentionally established as an outsider in the same moments where Zofia learns that some residents, such as Rudolf, are German civilians who may or may not have supported the Nazis. This is a clue to the reader that Josef may also be affiliated with the Nazis rather than with the fate of Jewish people during the war. Furthermore, on their way to the orphanage, Josef is cagey about his wartime experience and eventually admits ambiguously, “I have experience with feeling guilty for the things I did to survive” (150). Zofia misinterprets this as the actions of a man trying to stay alive in concentration camps; Josef may know that Zofia assumes this and allows her to, unwilling to admit that he fought for the Nazis during the war.